


later's better than never

by cathedralhearts



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Communication Failure, M/M, Plot Maybe Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathedralhearts/pseuds/cathedralhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yeah, it’s been a while,” Tyler says, like he wasn’t just here, sulking and eating too much fried food a few weeks ago. Segs licks his bottom lip and reaches out, tugging at Tyler’s shirt until he comes to stand in front of Segs, between the brackets of his knees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	later's better than never

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to rsadelle for helping me make this not weird, while beta reading the hell out of it and teaching me some interesting facts in the process.

\--

The Phantoms call a bunch of them in a week before the season ends, and Tyler is the second to be seen. Instead of a contract renewal, it consists of sitting in front of Terry, who shakes his hand and thanks him for his service, but he won’t be getting a renewal and best of luck for the future.

He floats out, numb all over, and gets into his car and drives back to the condo he and Heeter had been sharing for the past two seasons. By the time the others arrive back from their meetings, it takes them a few beats to watch Tyler packing his shit into his duffle to realise what’s happened.

“Oh, Brownie,” Heeter starts, and he shakes his head.

“Knew it was coming, man. I never make it out of camp, I even get scratched for Phantoms games. I’ll keep grinding and find a team,” he shrugs, trying not to let it show that it bothers him as much as it does.

 

They go out and get absolutely blitzed that night. There are a few girls who are interested, but Tyler gets too sloppy and they bail with their friends once they realise he isn’t gonna be down for anything tonight.

“It’s gonna be okay, Brownie,” Heeter mutters as he helps him kick off his shoes, Tyler whining at the movement. He curls up on his side and passes out, hoping daylight never comes.

 

But daylight comes, as it always does, and Tyler wakes up with the worst fucking hangover of his life and all but crawls to the kitchen, craving grease and carbs.

“You feeling okay?” Heeter asks from his seat at the kitchen table, and Tyler shrugs and hauls himself into a chair, yawning widely and not bothering to hide his mouth.

“Nice,” Heeter says, and Tyler tries to smile but it falls flat. He’ll have to call his manager to start looking for a new team again. There’ll be camp tryouts and rejections -- it’ll be like everything he went through before the Flyers saw something they liked.

He really fucking hates this part.

 

* * *

 

“Keep grinding,” Heeter says at the end of the week, when the Flyers make it to the playoffs and he’s called up when Emery goes down with an injury.

“Good luck bud,” Tyler says back as he finishes shoving boxes into the back of his truck and slams the door shut. He’s decided to drive back to Ontario, wanting the time to clear his head before his manager calls, and leaves his former teammates behind as he hits the highway.

The car is quiet, and he settles into the drive, listening to the chirp of his GPS. It’s a long drive, almost eight hours, but he’s done it enough that it doesn’t bother him anymore.

 

He doesn’t expect any calls and doesn’t get any until late that day, when Freddy calls.

“Yo, Brownie! Long time no chat,” he chirps down the line. It sounds busy wherever he is, and Tyler wonders if he’s in Dallas.

“Uh, yeah. Been busy, you know how it is,” Tyler says, not in the mood for niceties.

“Yeah, yeah. Hey listen, sorry about Philly. Fucking sucks what happened,” Freddy says, and it’s not like him and Freddy aren’t good buddies or anything, but he’s more Segs’ friend than his. It’s weird to be getting this call, unless--

“Is Segs making you call me?” he asks, and Freddy pauses for an uncomfortably long time.

“Of course he is. If he wants to find out how I am, he can fucking call me himself,” Tyler continues, and disconnects the call.

He’s fuming as he drives. Sex always fucking ruins everything. It’s should become a life rule, or a Commandment or something. He and Segs hooked up for a couple of summers, off the back of a drunken make out that was far too good for them not to explore further.

They were amazing together, though, which was the worst thing.

Segs has a banging body and a _mouth_ on him, and Tyler lost count of the orgasms they dragged out of each other those years. It spilled over into the season a few times, with Segs Skyping and demanding to see him naked and hard, which was never much of a challenge.

Outside the sex, it wasn’t much different than what they usually did -- they’d still hang out, go drinking, play Xbox, sometimes mixing it up by going out to dinner or to see a movie. It was nice, when he thinks back on it -- just them at their favourite places in Toronto; Segs would always insist on paying and they’d walk around afterwards, talking shit and standing way too close. Segs would bring him up to Boston sometimes for a night, if he had time between games or was scratched or injured. It wasn’t something Segs did with everyone -- he had a drunken conversation a few summers back with Blacker and Brendan about it -- but when it did happen, Tyler got barely any time with him and it just wasn’t enough to retain the same sort of summer intimacy.

He was lonely, once he seriously got down to it. The summers only took up a few months of the year, and he wanted more. He was _allowed_ to want more. He texted Segs a bazillion times a day during the season anyway, to the point where the team constantly chirped him for spamming his wife, which was fine… but he wanted someone to have as his own. Someone there all the time, not just some of the time, and he was pretty sure if he asked Segs he’d get laughed at.

While Segs was all bromancey with him, he still kept a rotation of ‘friends’ during the season and never seemed interested in the idea of settling down. Tyler wasn’t even sure how to ask; at the end of the summer, their last night together felt like a farewell -- Segs was more sweet, a little more desperate than usual. They never really talked about what they did, or why; just fell into it in the same pattern as always, like they fell back into just being friends. He wasn’t even sure how to bring it up -- how did someone start the whole, ‘So I kind of want to be your boyfriend and wake up next to you and only you for the foreseeable future?’ conversation without risking the pretty friggin’ sweet friendship that was already there?

Then he started to get to know Julie better, to the point where it was kind of effortless to slide into dating. Then came the lockout, which resulted in Tyler sitting through countless Skypes sessions, Segs pining across the Atlantic about no NHL and no friends. Segs started acting like a fuckhead after he got back and Tyler started spending more time with his girl -- all his friends started douching up, actually -- and when Julie left him the following summer, things never really got fixed.

Tyler doesn’t know how to fix it, is the problem. Segs never told him what was wrong -- what he did that was so bad he was willing to throw away years of friendship, of long nights spent drunk and close, or passed out on the living room floor after an Xbox marathon before they were legal. Remembering Plymouth makes him ache all over.

So, he’s probably a little angry and a lot sore over it, and the fact that Segs can’t even be assed to call him directly, that he’s getting their friends to do his dirty work? Fucking pathetic.

Freddy tries again, ten minutes later, but Tyler doesn’t pick up. Then Brendan calls and Tyler ignores that too. Fuck ‘em all.

 

*

 

The day after he gets back to Wasaga, his agent rings and asks where he wants to play.

“Uhm… wherever will take me?” Tyler tries.

“I meant, east or west?”

West means Segs. At least in the east, he’s got almost no chance of ever lining up against him. Their friendship is obviously done, so he needs to move on in a mature and adult manner by completely ignoring his existence. He probably should unfollow him on Instagram.

“East,” he says.

 

* * *

 

He sulks in his room for the rest of the week, Cody tearing it up for the Corvairs and planning on going to camps for a few NHL teams during the summer. His mom is still working and his dad’s busy coaching, so he’s left to his own devices -- mostly to get drunk and watch the playoffs.

He watches from his couch, Kayley whuffling in her sleep on his lap and surrounded by beer, as Dallas crashes out in the first round. Segs skates dejectedly around the ice in green and white and Tyler’s family bracket is fucked already; he’d picked Dallas to go ahead, just on the will of Segs alone.

His cousin texts him a few minutes later to chirp him -- in French, which is a douche move because they know his French is rusty as hell -- and he rolls his eyes and tosses his phone to the floor. Whatever.

 

* * *

 

Brendan texts him a few days later, asking if he’s coming to Dallas.

_Idk. Anything worth coming for?_

Brendan tells him that they’re at Segs’ place and everyone keeps asking about him -- convinced he’s holed up with a new girl, banging his way through the hotter months.

_No girl, i’m boring and single. Segs doesn’t want me there anyway._

Brendan calls at that, to yell at him for being a dumb fuck and telling him to come. “You’re making things more awkward not being here,” he whines, and Tyler rolls his eyes.

“It’s not awkward, you guys don’t miss me. C’mon now,” Tyler says, wincing as he listens to what he’s saying. It’s such a self-depreciating, emo statement, but hey, that’s his life now.

“You’re a fucking idiot. Come to Dallas, Segs wants to spend a while here yet. Just come, alright? It’ll be fine,” Brendan says.

As much as doesn’t want to go, he knows the only way he’s going to get any kind of closure is if he does. At least he can try and talk to Segs, or get back on some kind of even footing. He feels off-kilter, and he hates it.

“Look, just… there’s nobody else, okay?” Brendan says quietly. Tyler blinks.

“What do you mean?”

“God, you’re such a dumbass. I mean, Segs doesn’t have anyone. He hasn’t for a while now. It’s just… just come, okay? Segs really wants to see you. He’s just… he knows things are fucked and he doesn’t wanna make things worse.”

Tyler works on his lower lip, confused and pissed off, but he wants this shit closed out.

“Fine, I’ll come,” he sighs out, before saying goodbye to Brendan. He packs up his gear and books a flight, and he scrolls through his pictures looking for the screencapped one from Segs with his address. He finds it, tucked away between pictures of the sunset, and gives it to the cabbie when he climbs in, wondering what the fuck is waiting for him.

 

* * *

 

The place is huge, open and airy and exactly the kind of place Tyler loves. Most of their crew is already there, including Candace and a few of her college buddies, who are all by the pool.

“Girls, this is one of my brother’s besties, Tyler Brown,” Candace says as she shoves him along toward her friends. She smells like coconuts and her fingers are pressed kind of viciously in the base of his spine. He’d spoken to her a couple of times after things went south with Julie and Segs, talking mostly about how things had gone wrong in his relationship and letting her tell him tidbits about what Segs was up to. She ended every call with a sigh and called him a dumbass, but those calls were one of the few things that didn’t suck during that whole period. Hockey, Game of Thrones and Heeter’s pasta bake made up the rest of it.

“He’s named Tyler too?” one of them asks, and Tyler blushes. He’s so bad with girls, fuck. It took so long for him to even land Julie, and now… he’s got nothing to show for it.

“I go by Brownie, mostly,” he manages and the girls laugh. Candace grins, depositing him there while she goes to get Freddy to make them cocktails.

 

They grill that afternoon, all the doors thrown open to let the breeze through. Candace tells Tyler that Segs is at the club all morning, then at a team lunch, and stares at him as if expecting some kind of reply. Tyler doesn’t care -- he’s been talking to one of the girls, an anthro major named Christina. She’s pretty and reminds him of Julie, which kind of sucks. He just nods and returns to his conversation, trying to ignore the butterflies that start to gnaw at his stomach.

Tyler’s been kicking it with Marshall for a bit, while the girls head to the bathrooms to get the chlorine off. “So, what’s happening with hockey?” Freddy asks, slinging an arm around his shoulder and making faces at Marshall.

“Dunno, gonna start doing camps, try and land a deal,” Tyler shrugs, trying to dislodge Freddy’s arm, but it’s impossible and Freddy only clings tighter.

“East or west?” he asks. He’s drunk, Tyler knows that, but the way he asks makes him think there’s something more behind it. He decides being paranoid is no way to live and just shrugs again.

“I’m not exactly in a position to be demanding, Fred. I’ll go wherever I can get a contract.”

Freddy pulls a face -- that sympathetic, pity face he’s getting far too often lately when he tells people he isn’t playing for the Flyers anymore. It pisses him off enough to finally dislodge Freddy and go searching for more drinks.

 

* * *

 

The others have gone out to do some shopping before they leave tomorrow, Candace staying a few days longer, but Tyler begged off, tired and cranky from the booze. He’d made out with Christina by the pool, and she’s exactly what he likes, but he just can’t seem to close it down.

He’s sprawled out on the sectional while the AC pumps overhead. Marshall is basically covering his entire body, his huge head under Tyler’s neck, his nose rubbing against his chin every now and then when he twitches in his sleep. It’s a reassuring weight-- although the dog’s a fucking monster now, so different from the tiny puppy that tucked himself in the crook of Tyler’s elbow a couple of years ago. He was worried Marshall would forget him, but the dog was all over him the second he saw him, so at least that didn’t change.

He’s dozing with the golf in the background when the door opens and Marshall startles a little, lifting his head and whining.

“Shh… it’s okay,” Tyler mumbles, patting his neck. There’s a sharp intake of breath behind him and he tilts his head up, pushing his cap off his face to see Segs standing there looking like he’s been hit by a plank, with a dude behind him.

“Hey buddy,” he says, a soft smile on his face. He’s still half-asleep, his brain thinking it’s one of the other summers and Segs has come back from training, all languid and loose from yoga and ready for a marathon fuck session.

“Hey,” Segs chokes out and looks over his shoulder at the guy, who’s staring at Tyler like he’s a play to be solved or something, and then Tyler wakes up enough to remember-- _fuck_.

“Uh, shit. Sorry. I, uh--” Tyler starts, struggling to sit up, but Segs shakes his head.

“No, it’s okay. I just got caught by surprise. It’s good to see you,” he says, nodding firmly and walking past to the stairs. Marshall takes off after him and Tyler misses the warmth as Brendan comes out the kitchen holding a few beers.

“Benny!” he says to the guy, and they clap hands and brohug.

“Good to see you. You must be Tyler Brown,” the dude says to him. Tyler just blinks, finally placing the face as the one he’s seen skating on Segs’ line all these weeks -- as one of the ones who bought Canada the gold again. God, how embarrassing.

“Uh, thanks. Jamie, right?” he starts, feeling his cheeks go hot under his beard. Brendan rolls his eyes.

“Dude, I know you’re east coast but that’s cold,” Brendan jokes as Tyler offers his hand and Benn shakes it.

“Sorry, I… uh, yeah. East coast,” he lies lamely. Benn keeps looking at him like he knows Tyler’s bullshitting, especially after basically all of Canada stopped to watch the Olympics, but Segs yells from upstairs and he leaves, lugging his duffle with him.

Tyler frowns. He knows Segs is close with Benn -- knows from a few group text pictures that they hang out a lot, cooking and clubbing together. It sends a spike of white-hot jealousy through him, just as it had at the time. Brendan was full of shit; obviously Segs is with Benn, and that’s why he’s here. It’s some fucked up way of Segs showing him what the new order is, and that he doesn’t have a place in it.

“I think I should go,” Tyler says, getting up once Benn’s disappeared and Marshall has come running back downstairs.

“What? Why?” Brendan asks, pushing a beer into his hands. Tyler pushes it back.

“Because it’s fucking weird, and because Benn’s obviously around for the summer, so it’s gonna be uncomfortable. Shit’s going on with them-- I just, I can’t do this. I’ll find a hotel tonight but I’m going back to Ontario tomorrow.”

Brendan’s face goes tight and he shoves the beer back against Tyler’s chest, forcing him to take it. “Look, you got it all wrong,” he starts, stopping as Segs wanders back downstairs and stands next to them, reaching for the bottle in Tyler’s grasp.

Their fingers brush and Tyler has to try so hard not to shudder, letting Segs take the bottle and wrap his lips around it. Even with this awkwardness, the discomfort Tyler feels, it still does nothing to hide how his body tries to lean towards Segs, seeking out his touch. He really wants to fix things, so badly. Even if he never gets to sleep with Segs again, he misses not being pissed off and confused about them, wants it to be simple and easy again.

“How long you staying for?” Segs asks, his voice even. Tyler looks at Brendan, who purses his lips.

“No need to go back to Jersey for training this year, you can stay with us all summer,” Brendan says, after a beat. He’s glaring at Tyler, as if daring him to say anything different. Tyler could fucking kill him for reminding him of his complete lack of options and prospects.

“Huh? Why aren’t you going back to Jersey?” Segs asks.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tyler snaps before he can stop himself, and Segs flushes.

“Dude, I called you like, two weeks ago -- the Flyers didn’t extend his contract,” Brendan hisses, and Tyler really, _really_ wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

“Okay so, I’m gonna go. This is... yeah,” he says, and he can leave his shit here, he just needs his house keys and to get the fuck out of this place. It was a bad fucking idea coming, especially when their crew is with them and Benn is here. He makes it to the door, his keys in the bowl with the rest of them, when Segs appears and plasters himself across it.

“Please don’t go. I didn’t--- _fuck_. Just, please. I want you to stay,” Segs babbles, and Tyler’s hands clench around his keys.

“Segs,” he starts, trying to keep the broken tone out his voice, and Segs reaches out and grabs his arm, dragging his hand down to circle around Tyler’s for a beat.

“Stay. I want you to stay,” Segs repeats, squeezing his hand before dropping it. Benn comes thumping downstairs a few seconds later, stopping at the bottom of the stairs to take in the scene. He’s looking at Segs, his face unreadable, before his gaze slides to Tyler. The air is tense and Tyler really fucking wants to leave.

He really cannot imagine a worse summer than having to spend it listening to Segs and Benn and all the awesome shit they get up to in Dallas, not having to worry about fans getting up in their grill or people taking pictures of them while they sleep; probably all of it together, sharing the kind of intense looks they used to share when they were fucking. So, it kind of takes them both by surprise when he drops his keys back in the bowl and says, “Okay.”

“Really?” Segs asks. Tyler nods.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

Segs refuses to move from the door until Tyler backs away, and keeps shooting looks at him, as if to reassure himself that Tyler’s actually there. He keeps having whispered conversations with Benn, darting looks over to Tyler occasionally, and it’s weird until the rest get back and they decide to go out clubbing. Tyler knows he needs closure of some sort, and maybe watching Segs and Benn grind up against each other in a shitty club will be exactly the sort he needs.

“Christina’s coming,” Candace giggles, elbowing Tyler as he tries to gel his hair into something approximating neatness. He’d shave it all off or grow it out, if it didn’t make him look like a complete freak-- the style he’s got now is about all that works.

“Yeah?” he asks, trying to sound interested. He doesn’t expect Segs to appear, wearing a striped shirt that’s about two sizes too small, a few days of stubble trimmed close to his cheeks. Tyler’s stomach clenches and he washes hot all over, sense memory of tracing his tongue along Segs’ neck coming back to him like a fucking punch to the gut.

“Who’s Christina?” Segs asks, and Candace rolls her eyes. Segs is shit with names, and Tyler knows Candace would’ve introduced her buddies at least twice before giving up.

“One of my friends. She and Brownie are getting along quite well,” she says, winking. Segs raises an eyebrow and Tyler flushes.

“Not that well,” he coughs, and Candace looks like she’s going to start talking about their hookup by the pool, so Tyler heads that conversation off and asks when they’re leaving.

 

 *

 

Segs and Benn stick together at the bar for most of the night, managing to act interested in the girls who flock around them while Freddy and Brendan disappear almost the second they get there. Tyler keeps watching them, waiting for Segs to do something dumb like kiss Benn so he can change his flight and mend whatever’s left inside him. God, he’ll need to find new friends -- he won’t be able to face their crew. Candace finds her friends and shoves Christina at him so he’s forced to hold court at their table, squashed in a corner while Candace sits on one side and Christina on the other.

“This isn’t going to work, is it?” Christina asks after midnight, when Tyler’s pulled her back from the dance floor, sweaty and his feet aching. He definitely should’ve broken in these sneakers before he packed them, goddamn.

“Huh?” he asks, confused and more than a little dazed from the four Jim & Cokes he swilled in the last hour, and she shakes her head and pats his arm.

“Something’s going on with you… and that’s cool, I mean, I’m not looking for anything really serious right now either, but. You’re not really here, y’know?” she says, leaning in close enough so he can hear her over the thrum of the bass.

He feels like absolute shit. “I’m so sorry. You’re so nice, and you’re… fucking perfect, actually. I just, uh. I’ve got some personal shit to work out this summer. I’m really sorry. I was gonna tell Candace I wasn’t looking, but uh… guess that slipped my mind. I’m really sorry.”

“I’m getting over a guy too, it’s fine. You’re nice, I’d like… I mean, if you want, we can be friends… until things get less complicated, anyway?”

She’s far better than he deserves, and he tells her that over and over. She throws her head back and laughs as his eyes drift to the bar, where Segs has his arm around a girl but is looking straight at Tyler. Benn’s on the dancefloor making out with some girl, which is kind of surprising. Maybe Tyler read that shit all wrong. But he’s drunk and stupid, lonely and hurting and he _misses_ Segs so bad that he needs what they had, even just for a night. He throws back the rest of his drink and bites down on his lip, like he knows used to drive Segs crazy, tilting his head towards the front door. Segs nods and says something to the girl, and Tyler squeezes his way out of the the booth, ignoring Candace’s chirping for leaving early.

They’re not far from from the condo so they walk in silence, hurrying along the pavement. Segs waves at the security guy as they’re waiting for the elevator and pile inside, unable to do much more than stare at each other on the way up, the numbers ticking past. It’s suffocating, and Tyler has no fucking idea what’s going to happen when they cross the threshold.

Once they do, Segs kicks the door closed and grabs Tyler, pushing him up against the wall. Tyler stares at him, trying to figure out what Segs is thinking, before Segs whimpers a little and ducks up to kiss him. He tastes like vodka sunrises and mint.

They strip as soon as they get into the bedroom, Segs moaning into Tyler’s mouth like he’s fucking dying for it, thrusting hard against his thigh.

“Fuck,” Tyler chokes out. Segs whines as they get their briefs off and fall onto the bed, their cocks sliding together, precome slicking the way.

“Fuck me,” Segs says as he sucks a bruise under Tyler’s ear, and his hips stutter.

“What about Benn?” Tyler asks and Segs pulls back, looking confused.

“What about him?” Segs asks.

Tyler hitches a shoulder. “Aren’t you guys…” he trails off, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Segs shakes his head violently, pressing his face against Tyler’s neck to suck a kiss against it.

“Never. He’s just hanging out for a bit. He’s not-- he’s not what I want. Now, are you gonna fuck me?” Segs asks, and Tyler feels a weight lift from his chest he didn’t know he was carrying.

“Fuck, okay,” he says, because even when they were fucking, they didn’t do that very often. Maybe a handful of times over both summers, but it took ages and they were mostly drunk and never coordinated enough to get fingers and body parts where they needed to be. Tyler was kind of insecure about doing it right, even though Segs always seemed really into it -- he still isn’t that confident, even moreso after their long break.

But Segs has a thigh thrown over his shoulder as Tyler sucks him down and works his fingers inside, lube leaking onto the bedsheets and down Segs’ thighs. He’s begging Tyler to get inside him before he shoots, hands clenching in the sheets and his back arching.

“Condom,” Tyler says and Segs looks at him through glazed-over eyes.

“Sidetable?”

There’s one inside, but the packet’s ripped and Tyler doesn’t have any on him, hadn’t expected to need them. He looks back at Segs, who’s wriggling on his fingers, all swollen knuckles and callouses, thrusting up against nothing.

“Just-- without one, I’m clean. Fuck, I _need_ you,” Segs says, chest heaving.

Tyler stops, freezing. Even when they were -- even in the summers, they never did it bare. There wasn’t anyone else at the time, he doesn’t think, but the conversation never came up. He hasn’t been with anyone unprotected in his entire life, not even with Julie.

“Are you sure?” he asks, and Segs moans and tightens around his fingers, nodding and panting harshly. That isn’t enough, though.

“But… Segs, we never--”

“Fuck, Brownie, please. I need this, I need you. I want this. Don’t you want this, too?” Segs squeezes around his fingers, his thighs pressing against Tyler’s hips. Tyler’s jaw feels slack and Segs is biting down on his lip, cheeks and torso flushed. He’s so fucking beautiful.

“Okay,” Tyler rasps, and reaches for the lube to coat up, Segs dropping his head against the pillows, his mouth turned up in a grin.

When he slides inside Segs, it’s like he never left, except everything’s hotter and slicker and tighter than it ever was, no barriers between them.

“Holy fucking shit,” Tyler gasps out, his hand fumbling to grab at Segs’ shoulder, Segs moving his hips in a slow grind to get Tyler pushing against his prostate.

“Fuck. Me,” he demands, and Tyler’s always been good at doing what Segs tells him to.

 

When Segs comes, he shoots all over Tyler’s chest and stomach at the same time. Tyler’s face is pressed against Segs’ neck, hips snapping and Segs’ thighs firm around his hips until he tips over the edge. It hits him all the way through. His balls are so fucking tight as he empties, gasping as Segs tenses around him, his hand around his own dick and pumping himself through the last of it.

Tyler huffs and pants for a minute or so, coming down from the fucking crazy sex they just had, and goes to pull out and clean up… but Segs tightens his thighs around him.

“Don’t pull out,” he says, gaze unwavering on Tyler’s face. He’s confused, and it obviously shows when Segs makes a face.

“I want you to stay inside me,” he explains, and _what the fuck?_ Tyler can feel his come starting to leak out, sliding over his rapidly softening dick, and he’s not sure what the protocol is after unsafe sex but it sure as shit isn’t this.

“Segs… my dick, it’s gonna hurt. I have to,” he says, but Segs grabs for him and pulls him back down, kissing him slow and deep until Tyler’s dick slips out by itself, tacky with lube and come. Everything’s hypersensitive and he feels kind of out of it, floating on the orgasm and endorphins.

“I need to get a cloth,” he says, untangling himself from Segs and staggering to the bathroom. He cleans himself up and does Segs, who’s almost passed out on his bed, bruises forming over his neck and along his hips. When he comes back in and starts looking for his briefs, Segs kicks out at his leg.

“What are you doing?” he slurs a little, and Tyler pulls on his briefs and looks at the door.

“I should go to one of the other rooms, it’ll be weird if they come home and we’re… together,” he says. Segs looks at him and reaches out a hand, not saying a word.

“Segs…” he tries, but Segs just keeps holding out his fingers, until Tyler takes them and lets Segs tug him down onto the bed and into his embrace. Yet another thing that’s new. While they’d done it a couple of times when they were fucking on the regular, Segs was never this clingy. Never this desperate about it, wrapped around Tyler like he never wants to let him go.

He’s so fucking confused, but he falls asleep to Segs’ breath against his head.

 

*

 

When he wakes up the next morning, the sun is high in the sky and the smell of bacon rouses him. Segs is still asleep, and Tyler’s hungover and even more confused than yesterday.

They fucked, and it was amazing, and Segs acted weird with not wanting condoms and super clingy afterwards, which was not so amazing. Tyler isn’t averse to the clinging, it’s just the whole bare thing that’s freaked him out a little. They didn’t talk about it, not like they probably should’ve. It seems like the kind of thing couples… _people_ discuss before they agree to go unprotected. Segs’ attitude, how he’d acted like he was starving for Tyler, doesn’t help the issue either. Does he just want to pick up with their summer thing where they left off, not wanting condoms because he’s lazy or something?

Tyler contemplates getting dressed more but he knows everyone in the condo and they’ve seen him in worse states before, so he makes his way down in just his underwear.

Brendan’s frying breakfast and Freddy’s lying on the couch with Marshall and Benn, Candace curled up in a ball next to them, moaning about her hangover. The rest of her buddies have already left to head back to Toronto before Tyler woke up. He’s kind of glad -- he’s not even sure what he could’ve said to Christina coming out of Segs’ room. Plus, he doesn’t exactly want to out himself; he doesn’t mind Benn knowing, because he’s pretty sure he knows their history, and he seems like the kind of guy who can keep his mouth shut.

“Jesus,” Candace says when Tyler reaches the bottom landing, and he frowns.

“What?” he asks, and looks down-- and _fuck_. He hadn’t noticed but apparently Segs got rough -- there are hickies on his neck and collarbone, scratch marks up his arms and back, and bruises peeking out the top of his boxers. Maybe he should’ve pulled on a shirt.

“So you’re back together, then?” Freddy asks, looking up at him. Tyler rubs his face. This is not the conversation to have before food.

“I don’t know.” Tyler figures going for the truth is good right now, and the way Benn’s looking at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, it’s the right thing to do. He still doesn’t really know much about Benn, and that coil of jealousy is still nestled in his ribcage, but he feels a little less crazy about it all after last night.

He finds a t-shirt from the clean laundry pile and pulls it on. It’s striped, and Segs is the only one who wears striped shirts, so this probably isn’t going to help things.

Segs comes stumbling downstairs a few minutes later in boxers and a Stars tee, and flops down next to Tyler on the couch, whining about the sun.

“Morning,” Tyler says, trying to balance his coffee mug as Segs jostles him, and Segs looks up at him, his chin resting against his shoulder.

“Morning,” he says, smiling warmly, and he rubs his nose against Tyler’s jaw until Brendan demands he come into the kitchen to help with the food. Segs leaves Tyler and returns with a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, sausage and toast, spearing some on his fork and offering it to Tyler as the others head in to grab their own plates.

“I’m older than you. If anyone should be feeding anyone, it’s the other way around,” Tyler says with a raised eyebrow.

Segs just chuckles and pokes the toast into Tyler’s mouth, smothering any protestations.

 

* * *

 

It continues for over a week. Whatever it is, Segs doesn’t want to talk about it -- Tyler knows from years of friendship that if Segs wants to talk about something, he’ll bring it up. Since this never gets mentioned outside, or even inside, the bedroom, he knows what Segs wants. Tyler’s too weak from getting to touch Segs again to push the issue.

Every night they tumble into bed together and have amazing sex, no condoms and no conversation about that, either. It’s fucking scary and he knows they should talk, but Segs always wants him, never pushes him away. Segs has stopped looking at anyone else when they go clubbing, sticking close to Tyler until they’re ready to leave.

In the mornings it’s always like an extension of the night; Segs does his own thing but keeps Tyler within arms’ distance, and the others are acting like nothing’s changed -- like it’s back before all this shit went down, chirping them about their visible marks and throwing sly winks around. Even Benn starts to get into it, before he leaves for his own summer plans.

Segs takes ages to return from dropping him at the airport, and Tyler’s dozing on the couch while Iron Man 3 plays on the plasma, Freddy snoring on the other sectional. Tyler looks up when Segs comes in, dropping his keys in the bowl and coming to stand next to Tyler. He looks tense and a little sad -- he gets like that sometimes, whenever people break off to do their own thing.

“You okay?” he asks. Segs kind of lurches forward like he’s going to fall on Tyler, who finds himself just lifting an arm and looking at Segs like -- what, he doesn’t know. But Segs just crawls on top, resting his head against Tyler’s collarbone.

“Just glad you stuck around,” he says a while later, and Tyler tightens his arm around Segs.

 

* * *

 

“You wanna go to Bocconcino's?” Segs asks a couple of days later, after Tyler’s stomach growls in the middle of an NHL 14 battle.

“Fuck yeah. I’ve been craving Italian for ages.”

He waits for Segs to find the others and ask, but Segs just heads to his room to change and Tyler shrugs and starts flipping through the channels.

When Segs emerges in a black button down and khakis, Tyler frowns. They usually just roll to dinner in shorts and a tee, but this seems a little more upmarket than usual. Maybe Segs wants to hit up a club afterwards or something? So Tyler gets up and heads to his suitcase, where he pulls out a polo shirt and some slacks. Flops won’t cut it with this outfit, so he steals some socks of Segs’ and a pair of boots, padding into the foyer as Segs rubs at Marshall’s head.

Segs’ eyes trail up Tyler’s body and make him flush, especially when he grins and draws Tyler in to kiss him.

“Who you all dressed up for, me?” he chirps and Tyler rolls his eyes and shoves at him. The smell of Segs’ cologne imbeds itself in Tyler’s senses, and he watches as Segs bends over to pull on his shoes, his khakis straining against his ass.

“You’re getting it tonight,” Tyler says before he can stop himself, and he feels his insides tighten up.

Instead of freaking out, Segs laughs as he looks over his shoulder. “Promise?” he teases.

Tyler has to readjust himself before they head out.

 

Bocconcino’s is amazing as always -- they get a booth towards the back and they decide on an antipasto to start. For mains, Segs chooses bolognaise and Tyler orders margherita pizza.

They shoot the breeze while they eat their starter, Tyler laughing as Segs pulls a face at the olive Tyler gets him to try. Segs sticks to the meats and cheese after that. It’s easy, their old intimacy seeping back in -- helped along by the sex, Tyler thinks -- and Tyler sinks against the booth and lets himself forget the shit from the past year and focus on how things are right now.

Segs keeps leaning over to steal bites of his pizza, and it’s the dumbest fucking thing ever but Tyler’s three beers deep and everything’s looking good. When Segs pulls away, laughing, there’s a smear of sauce on his lip.

“Wait,” Tyler starts, and leans over to meet him, using his thumb to rub the sauce off Segs’ bottom lip. He flops back down into his seat and smiles. Segs looks stunned for a second, but the smile that spreads across his face lights Tyler up inside, and Segs giggles and sits back down, tucking his ankle behind Tyler’s.

Segs insists on paying and they head down the street, to where Tyler parked his car.

“Do you wanna go to a club or something?” Tyler asks. They usually hit up somewhere after dinner, Segs always in the mood to party with pretty girls. It sours the taste in his mouth at the idea, but Segs shakes his head and bumps close to him instead.

“Nah, let’s just go back home. Fred went out to meet some girl and Brendan’s working, so it’s just us.”

Tyler’s mouth goes dry as Segs wanders ahead and sticks his hands in his pockets, peeking over his shoulder to smirk at Tyler as the material pulls tight against his ass. So fucking perfect.

True to his word, Tyler spends an inordinate amount of time peeling Segs out his clothes, unable to pull his mouth away from Segs’ long enough to speed up the process. He pushes Segs down on his bed and licks his lips, wondering where to start.

“Suck my dick,” Segs says.

“Who knows where it’s been,” Tyler says. Segs gets a weird look on his face before he sits up and grabs at Tyler’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss, lush and wet.

“Just in your hands,” Segs mumbles as they pull apart before flopping back down. Tyler swallows hard and nods, bending down to take Segs in, listening to Segs groan out his name, head pressing back against the pillows. He works his mouth and hands, Segs’ fingers tangling in his hair before pulling away to get the lube from his sidetable.

“Now, baby,” Segs whines and Tyler pulls back, taking the lube from Segs and pushing him onto his front. Segs tries to roll back over but Tyler stops him with a hard hand to his lower back. He doesn’t want to look at Segs’ face tonight, his heart too full of the kind of shit that’ll get him in trouble. Not tonight.

He’s three fingers deep into Segs, watching the flush creep down his back and up his thighs when he coats his dick and slides it in, swearing as Segs takes him.

“I wanna see you,” Segs says, looking over his shoulder. Tyler shakes his head and starts fucking him in earnest, pulling Segs up a little onto his knees.

He’s at the edge and Segs is more quiet than usual, a moan here and there when Tyler hits his prostate but he doesn’t seem as into it, so Tyler stops moving.

“What’s wrong?” Tyler asks, breathing hard. Segs shakes his head, fingers bunched in the sheets.

“Nothing. C’mon, finish,” he says, his voice flat.

Woah, _what the fuck?_

Tyler pulls out entirely and flips Segs over, and Segs looks back at him.

“Seriously, what?”

Segs bites his lip and Tyler looks down; he’s only half-hard. Shit.

“I like… I like looking at you. Don’t you like looking at me?” Segs asks, and Tyler’s heart aches a little. He braces himself over Segs and kisses him, something settling inside him as Segs groans and wraps his legs around Tyler’s hips, an arm around his neck.

Tyler starts jerking Segs slow and tight until he’s thick and heavy again and doesn’t move away; just grabs his dick and pushes it back in, Segs writhing and squirming underneath him.

“Fuck… yes… fuck me more, Tyler, fuck--” Segs gasps against his mouth, kissing him over and over, until Tyler can’t take it anymore and he comes with a groan, a hand pumping Segs erratically. Segs follows him over less than a minute later, coating Tyler’s hands as his back bows, pressing them together entirely.

“I’m sorry,” he says once they’ve done a shitty job at cleaning up and Segs is by his side.

“For what?” Segs asks.

“For… for not listening. It won’t happen again,” he says.

“I know. I should’ve pushed more. It’s okay.”

Tyler isn’t sure this one isn’t entirely on him, but Segs seems happy enough and falls asleep quickly, leaving Tyler to stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

 

* * *

 

Tyler’s agent calls shy of two weeks after he arrives in Dallas, and tells him the Stars and the Panthers are both interested so far.

“The Stars?” he chokes out, and Rick laughs.

“Seguin probably has something to do with that, but whatever. The Panthers are having an invitational camp next week that you need to go to, and the Stars are sending scouts to watch you while you’re there.”

Tyler hangs up and stares ahead at the cereal spread out in the supermarket. He’d wanted Count Chocula because it’s the summer and he slacks off a lot for the first few weeks, but apparently now he’ll be getting Bran Flakes and liking it. Candace would give him shit if she were still here -- she flew back to Canada a little while ago, making him promise to keep her dumb brother out of trouble.

Freddy appears with a huge tub of protein powder under one arm, and a bag of dog food dangling from the other.

“Dude, just get Segs to get some Biosteel stuff,” Tyler says to Freddy, who pulls a face.

“That shit tastes gross, I like the Nutiva stuff,” Freddy says. Tyler prefers organic as well but he hadn’t noticed a difference, so he alternates without much fuss.

They find Segs and Brendan in the meat section, Tyler lugging a flat of coconut water with him and Freddy piled high with barbecue gear.

“Where’d you two run off to?” Segs asks them both, but his eyes on Tyler. Tyler shrugs and blushes a little, not ready just yet to tell them he’s been invited to a camp.

 

He’s texting Blacker while he hunches over his laptop, looking for a decent flight that’ll get him close enough to Sunrise. He finds one back to Toronto, connecting to one to Fort Lauderdale the afternoon after, and he’s looking for the hotel the team told them to stay at when Segs flops down on the couch next to him.

“What’s up?” Segs asks, yawning loudly and patting his chest so Marshall will jump up with him.

“Gotta go to Sunrise for a few days. Got invited to a camp there,” Tyler says, and Segs frowns.

“Who’s running a camp in Sunrise? Biosteel does their stuff in Toronto,” Segs says.

Tyler chews on the inside of his cheek.

“No, it’s not one of those camps, it’s an… invitational camp, like, prospective players and stuff. I gotta find a new team this summer, remember?” he says.

“Florida, eh?” Segs asks.

“Nothing’s set in stone yet, gotta go down there and impress the coaching staff,” Tyler says. Segs makes a noncommittal sound and turns the TV on, flipping until he finds some baseball. The air between them is awkward, and Tyler doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do or say, so he just books a room and waits for the confirmation.

“You ever think about settling down again?” Segs asks, all of a sudden. Tyler flicks through his emails, smiling at a dumb meme Heeter sent him.

“Uhm… I guess so, why?”

“Just asking. You haven’t mentioned being into anyone, ‘s all,” Segs shrugs. He seems nonchalant but Tyler can see his jaw tensing.

“I dunno. Stuff like that always comes along when I least expect it. It’s a nice surprise,” Tyler says. He doesn’t really know where this conversation is heading, but Segs’ jaw has stopped clenching and he’s smiling now, his fingers buried in Marshall’s fur. Tyler shuts his laptop and pats Segs’ leg, getting up to start getting his gear together.

 

Tyler's packed up and heading downstairs when Segs meets him in the hallway. “When’s your flight? I’ll drive you to the airport,” he says. Tyler scritches at his beard.

“Nah, I gotta go back to Wasaga tomorrow and pick up my gear. I’ll spend the night there and get Cody to take me to the airport,” he says. He feels like he should try and reinsert some space between them, somehow. It doesn’t really work -- and he doesn’t really want to.

Segs shakes his head.

“Then I’ll come with you. We can crash at your place and I’ll take you to the airport on my way to see my family. I’m done in Dallas anyway,” he says. Tyler blinks, his stomach clenching at Segs changing his summer plans so rapidly, but Segs is grabbing a suitcase when Freddy and Brendan appear.

“Tyler has a camp in Sunrise and we’re going back to Toronto tomorrow. Can you guys close up everything here? I think I’m done, we should head out already,” Segs says.

“Uh, sure…” Freddy trails off, looking down at Marshall, who woofs loudly.

“Seriously?” Tyler asks, hovering by the doorway as Segs books a seat on the same flight and starts chucking shit in his suitcase. Segs looks over his shoulder and smiles, holding up two striped shirts and asking which one he should take. Tyler rolls his eyes but points at the left.

 

* * *

 

They pull up at Tyler’s house a half-hour before dinner the next day, and Cody’s out the front with his crew, holding the garden hose and washing off what looks like sand from his feet. Freddy and Brendan are taking Marshall on a later flight, Segs warning them not to throw any parties when they get to Toronto. By the look on Brendan’s face, Tyler wouldn’t bet on them not arriving to find the place trashed.

“Big bro!” Cody yells as Tyler climbs out the truck. He left it at the airport, the drive too long from Toronto to Wasaga for a cab, and Segs had slept most of the way.

“Hey buddy,” Tyler says with a smile, waving to all of Cody’s friends who’re heading for a truck parked out front, yelling about dinner and a movie. Cody looks torn and Tyler nudges him.

“Go with them, I’m only here for the night, then I’m flying to Florida for a tryout. I’ll be back in a week or so,” he explains.

Cody hugs him again and wishes him good luck, giving Segs a hug on his way to the car.

They get inside as his mom yells out; he’d texted her before they left to let them know he was coming... and bringing Segs.

“Oh look at that, Tyler Seguin, you’ve grown up into such a lovely looking young man!” she says as they head into the house with their duffles. Segs goes bright red while Tyler squats to hug Kayley.

“Your father’s out in the back grilling. Uncle Steve’s here too,” she says, kissing Tyler’s cheek and pushing them towards his room. She’s made up the bed again and vacuumed, and the windows are open to let in the afternoon breeze. The whole place smells like the lake and his mom’s peonies.

“Been a while since we were here, eh?” Segs says, dropping his duffle in front of Tyler’s closet and sitting on the edge of the bed. Tyler leans out his window and waves at his dad and uncle at the grill.

“Me and Segs want medium rare!” he yells.

“I can do burned to a crisp and that’s it!” Steve calls back, and Tyler laughs and shuts the window, tugging the blinds down to cut down on the sunlight streaming in.

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” Tyler says, like he wasn’t just here, sulking and eating too much fried food a few weeks ago. Segs licks his bottom lip and reaches out, tugging at Tyler’s shirt until he comes to stand in front of Segs, between the brackets of his knees.

“Segs…” he starts, his voice low. Segs just leans up to kiss Tyler. His hands settle on Tyler’s hips, holding him steady, and they make out until Segs lies back and pulls Tyler on top. They’ve probably got twenty minutes before his mom calls them for dinner, and he always locks his door out of habit; being constantly on the road with assholes who like to prank makes it a necessary one.

There’s a strip of condoms in his bedside table, the drawer open far enough to see them. He stares at them as Segs wriggles out of his pants, clever fingers working down Tyler’s shorts and briefs as he goes. Segs glances over at the table, seeing what Tyler sees. He just cups Tyler’s neck and pulls him back in, rubbing their cocks together until Tyler sees stars.

“We have enough time to fuck?” Segs asks wetly against his mouth, moaning as Tyler’s fingers dance behind his balls and press at his perineum.

“Nope. I can blow you, though,” Tyler says, shimmying down the bed and swallowing Segs down until Segs’ fingers are buried in his hair and he’s emptying down Tyler’s throat. Segs tugs him back up and kisses the taste of himself out Tyler’s mouth while Tyler thrusts against the sweat pooled in the cut of his hips until he comes, squeezing his eyes shut and slowly letting Tyler’s tongue coax him back.

“You taste like me,” Segs sighs as Tyler reaches for the baby wipes, his mom yelling from the kitchen that dinner’s ready. Tyler wrinkles up his nose but laughs, and they head out feeling lazy and sated from their orgasms.

Tyler cuts up his steak and then eats one-handed for the meal, the other arm stretched along the back of Segs’ chair, smiling as his family grills Segs about what they’ve been up to in Dallas. They hang around for the evening, moving to the living room and talking through Die Hard playing in the background. Tyler’s uncle leaves around ten and his parents head to bed, and Segs’ hand creeps to grip at his thigh, heading higher and higher up while he tries to watch Nigella cook a chocolate devil’s cake.

“Fuck’s sake,” he chokes out when Segs starts to knead his dick, and he turns off the television and stands up, shoving Segs as he laughs.

Segs insists on being on his back, like every other time they’ve fucked this summer, and they’re trying to be quiet because Tyler’s parents are just down the hall. Segs just keeps kissing him, his arms wrapped around Tyler as he moves his hips against Tyler’s dick to meet every thrust.

It’s ridiculously intimate. Tyler’s never had sex like this, and he’s drunk off the smell of Segs and the feeling of being inside him. Tyler gets a hand between them, the pressure building in his balls almost too much to keep going, no matter how much he wants to. He jerks Segs off until he comes, coating Tyler’s knuckles and squeezing so tight around him that Tyler is helpless but to follow him over. He laces their fingers together as he empties inside Segs, gasping out in the night air and burying his face against Segs’ neck.

“Jesus fuck,” he gurgles, his fingers shaking as he comes down, trying to pull out of Segs without hurting him. He staggers up and heads to the bathroom, knocking against the doorframe and tripping over an old pair of sneakers as he goes, managing to grab a towel to clean Segs up. They kiss as he wipes Segs down, then throwing the towel into the wash basket and yawning as he settles. Segs is still close, a solid line of warmth pressed up against him, and all Tyler can smell is sex and Segs, the lake and his mom’s peonies.

“I’m glad I came with you,” Segs whispers. Tyler’s stretched out on his stomach, arm bent under his pillow and their knees knocking, while Segs lies on his side, facing Tyler.

“Me too,” Tyler says, happy and sated.

 

In the morning, they shower together and Segs sucks him off, letting Tyler press him against the wall and jerk him off with soapy fingers when he’s done. While Tyler’s packing the rest of their stuff in the truck, Segs helps his mom make pancakes. There’s a huge, fluffy stack waiting for him when he comes inside.

“Mom, I hope you didn’t let Segs anywhere near this food,” he jokes, laughing and ducking the punch that comes. His mother rolls her eyes and shushes him, pushing them both into chairs and working on the next batch for her and his dad.

“What time’s your flight?” his dad asks, rustling the weekend newspaper and scritching at his moustache.

“1:30,” Segs says without missing a beat, eyes on his pancakes as he spreads maple syrup over the stack and reaches for the strawberries.

Tyler’s dad nods and tells him to pack sunscreen because his delicate skin won’t handle the Florida sun, and he splutters and almost sends the syrup flying as Segs burst into laughter. The rest of the meal is spent chirping Tyler mercilessly about how he’s going to die of sunburn in Florida -- _lies_ \-- and then Segs is clearing the table and making noise about them leaving.

 

It’s quiet on the ride there; Segs has Tyler’s truck and is driving, but insists on checking into short term parking and staying with him until he needs to go through security.

“Thanks for everything, man. I’ll see you in a few days?” Tyler says. He booked a return flight to Toronto, but he’s still not sure if this -- if whatever’s happening between them -- is something he wants to return to. They need to talk; it’s obvious, especially after last night, but Segs just pulls him into a hug and clings.

“I’ll pick you up when you land,” he says, brushing a tiny kiss below Tyler’s ear.

Tyler feels unsteady as he heads through security, looking over his shoulder as he goes.

 

* * *

 

The camp goes well enough-- it’s Florida and Tyler does get burned, but not as bad as he expected, which is always a win. He skates hard and scores a few goals, rotating between first and second lines and nailing all the drills. Both teams tell him they’ll be in touch with his agent. He packs up his gear after his shower on the last day and heads to the hotel, ready to get away from the mugginess of Florida and back to the-- back to _Segs_ , if he’s really fucking honest.

They’ve texted a bit, but nothing of substance and nothing for long. He misses it.

He steels himself as the plane lands in Toronto and taxis into the gate, grabbing his duffle and heading through customs to get to his baggage. He’s slinging his gear bag over his shoulder and reaching for his sticks when someone clears their throat behind him, and sure enough it’s Segs, with a smile on him bright enough to power North America.

He takes Tyler’s gear and asks how the camp went, and Tyler talks while they drive to the condo. His stomach is rumbling and he’d kill for a pizza, so they order a few and he chats with Freddy and Brendan about the guys on the camp and a steakhouse he went to.

After they’ve eaten and hung around for a while, Freddy and Brendan say they’re heading out for a movie. Tyler’s texting Cody as they leave, before he can ask what they’re seeing and if he can join them. It turns out it’s some scheme of Segs, because as soon as the door shuts Segs grabs Tyler’s phone and tosses it aside, straddling his hips and kissing him.

“Segs,” Tyler starts, as Segs nods and grinds down against him. He’s been half-hard since Segs picked him up from the airport, and having the object of his desire willing for it in his lap is better than any jerk-off fantasy he’s had since he left.

“Been wanting to touch you since I saw you,” Segs gasps out, and Tyler groans.

 

They don’t even make it to the bedroom, Segs reaching between the couch cushions and thrusting a bottle of lube at Tyler as he pulls off all his clothes, grabbing at Tyler’s shorts and yanking them down before he gets back on Tyler’s lap. Tyler fingers him open awkwardly, unable to see or get the angle he really wants with Segs in his lap, and Segs slicks him up and sinks down, gasping for air like Tyler choked him or something.

It feels even better than it did last time, and Segs starts to ride him. Tyler can only hold on while Segs takes control of everything, his hips moving sinfully and his ass tight around Tyler.

“Fucking missed you,” Segs continues, and Tyler kisses him hard, scared of what’ll come next. It doesn’t deter Segs and he talks filthily for the next ten minutes, telling Tyler exactly what he’s wanted and been looking forward to since he left.

“Your cock feels so good in my ass, like it belongs there, or something. I don’t want anyone else inside me,” he moans into Tyler’s neck, following it up with a bite that’s got more sting in it than Tyler’s used to.

It pushes him over the edge and he comes hard, harder than he has done in recent memory, his fingers gripping Segs’ hips so tight it’s guaranteed to leave bruises, big and purple. Segs jerks himself and sobs, coming all over Tyler’s chest, striping up to under his chin. He falls over, his forehead pressed against Tyler’s shoulders as their chests heave.

All Tyler wants to do is sleep, and process what the fuck just came out of Segs’ mouth, but Segs grabs him and drags him upstairs through a cursory shower. Tyler falls face-first onto the bed, vaguely aware Segs is somewhere nearby, and that’s the last thing he remembers until Freddy wakes him up an hour later, jabbing him with an old stick.

“We’re going clubbing,” Freddy says as Tyler sits up and rubs his eyes. Segs is next to him, fucking around on his phone.

“We’ll pass. We need to talk,” Tyler says. Freddy throws up his hands and backs out, shutting the door. Tyler waits until he hears the front door, the chatter and laughter following it, and Segs sighs and tosses his phone on the bed between them.

“So, what the fuck’s going on? Because I’m really confused,” Tyler starts, pressing his feet against the floorboards and staring straight at the wall. This will go so much easier if he doesn’t need to use eye contact, that’s for sure. “Because, we were together for a while, and we _never_ had sex then like we’ve been having lately. No condoms, _really?_ ” He turns to face Segs, who looks embarrassed.

“I just…”

“You just what? Because when Julie and I started dating everything changed, and you acted like I shot Marshall or something. And then you didn’t talk to me for months, and Freddy and Brendan were doing your dirty work for you. And now-- _now_ , you tell me you don’t want anyone else but me? What the fuck is going on?”

Segs shakes his head, groaning and palming his eyes.

“I missed you. I missed you so much, it was fucking humiliating. I thought we had something, and then you just… Julie.”

“Something? Dude, we fucked in the summer and never did anything the rest of the year. I deserved something full time, man. We both do. You never said you wanted that, how the hell was I supposed to know?” Tyler asks. Segs shuffles closer, close enough that his knee is pressing into Tyler’s thigh. It makes him feel better, which is dumb and awesome.

“You never said anything, either! Why is it always up to me?” Segs snaps. Tyler shakes his head and looks down at his lap. He knows he hasn’t been perfect in this, hasn’t dealt with it the he should’ve. Fuck.

“Besides… I thought it was obvious, how much I… how much I liked you. How much I’ve always liked you,” Segs mutters.

“I need more than just ‘obvious’, Segs. You gotta talk to me. You can’t just… say shit like, ‘no condoms’ and expect me to just roll with it. How do you know I don’t fuck all the time without them? I could’ve given you something.”

“But you wouldn’t. You’ve always taken care of me, Brownie. It’s one of the best things about you, and I just… I missed you. And then you were on my couch with Marshall like you never left, and I thought maybe that means you… you never want to. Leave.”

Tyler’s breath catches in his throat. “Segs…” he trails off, unable to do anything but watch as Segs leans in to kiss him.

“I really like you, Brownie. I probably really fucking love you, and have since I was sixteen, and it killed me to see you with a girl. With anyone but me. We can make this work,” he says.

Tyler takes a shuddery breath and follows it up with another. How the fuck did they go from that to… to Segs telling him he loves him? Everything’s taken on a weird haze, his chest feeling like it’s going to burst or something. He doesn’t know what to say, or how to react, so he falls back on the one thing he knows -- hockey.

“What happens if the Panthers are the only ones who offer me a contract? How is that supposed to work?” Tyler asks.

“Who else did you see? You just said you were going to Sunrise.”

“The Stars sent a scout too. I didn’t want to say anything in case it didn’t pan out.”

Segs’ face splits into a massive grin. “You’re such an idiot. We need left wingers. I think Antoine’s gonna go to another team and we’ve only got Whits and Benny, really. That’ll be cool if the Stars take you. Too bad I didn’t think of suggesting it.”

“What if--” Tyler continues, but Segs crawls into his lap and wraps his arms around Tyler’s neck, kissing him.

“Don’t overthink it. If they both offer you a deal, you’ll take whatever one’s gonna guarantee you NHL ice time, man. We’ll make it work, don’t worry. Our AHL team is in Texas, and I think the Panthers’ is too.”

“I couldn’t make it work with Julie, and she was just in college. How am I-- I mean, how are we gonna make it work, playing hockey halfway across the country from each other?”

Segs kneads his fingers into Tyler’s shoulders, that same dumb grin on his face. “Because we’re fucking meant to be, man. That’s how we’re gonna make it work.”

Tyler rolls his eyes but Segs laughs and pushes him back, kissing him again.

“I’m serious about you, okay. I was trying to be serious before but it kind of failed, so like… now we’re serious about being serious,” Segs says, straddling Tyler’s lap.

“It doesn’t make it more serious, the more you say it,” Tyler groans, and Segs punches him in the shoulder.

“I mean it. I wanna make sure we’re on the same page.”

“Alright, alright. We’re on the same page.”

Segs looks a little unsure still, and Tyler feels confused.

“When I said I loved you…” Segs trails off, and Tyler doesn’t think he’s ever going to get tired of hearing Segs say that. It’s so sappy and he’s going to be the worst when the dust settles. At least he won’t be able to post shit on Instagram about them -- granted, they acted pretty freaking gay for years before, so it probably wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.

“I think it’s pretty obvious how I feel about you. I stuck my dick in you... _bare_.”

Segs punches him again, and Tyler can’t help but laugh. Segs moves a little closer in response, biting his lip. “I’m not trying to force you into saying you love me too, okay? I just wanted you to know what I’m feeling, since we’re doing this.”

“I got it. And I like you a lot, Segs. I’m almost at love,” Tyler says, tugging Segs down for another kiss. Segs grins against his lips and snaps his briefs, giggling.

“You’re lucky I find your sense of humour endearing,” Segs says, tugging at the edges of his briefs until Tyler hoists his hips up and lets Segs slip them down, his own joining Tyler’s on the floor.

“You’re lucky I’m interested in having a trophy boyfriend,” Tyler fires back, enjoying the sounds of Segs’ laughter far too much.

“Boyfriend, eh?” Segs purrs, covering Tyler and digging his fingers into Tyler’s shoulders, spreading his legs to get his knees beneath him, a slow grind going on.

“Uh huh,” Tyler chokes out, throwing his head back as his dick fills, hot and heavy against Segs’. Segs reaches for the lube and slicks up his hand, working it around them both and biting Tyler’s throat.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Segs moans in his ear, licking up his jawline and following it with sucking kisses. Tyler’s brain almost whites out, and his hands dig into the meat of Segs’ ass, pulling them harder together.

“You wanna?” Tyler asks, breathless, his finger making its way to Segs’ hole. The smirk falls off Segs’ face and is replaced with pure want. Tyler reaches for the lube and pours it down the line of Segs’ ass, gathering the pool on his balls and pushing it inside, slow and purposeful.

Segs whines and pushes back on his finger and Tyler can think for a second, the friction gone off his dick, and he pours more, wanting it to be so fucking wet for him. He’s up to three fingers, curled inside while Segs’ face and chest are red, begging for his dick.

“Please,” he whines and Tyler smirks.

“Please what, Tyler?” he asks, and Segs bites down on his lips, pupils blown wide open.

“Fuck me, come inside me, do _something_.”

Tyler grabs his dick, reaching over Segs’ hip, and rolls them over so Segs is underneath. He grabs Segs’ legs and holds them up, his cock thick and red against his belly, precome pooling underneath it. Tyler bites his lip as he pushes in, watching Segs take him inch by inch, so beautifully.

“Fucking goddamn,” Segs chokes out, and Tyler echoes the sentiment as he starts to move.

Tyler comes with his face buried in Segs’ neck, Segs’ fingers scraping down his spine as he squeezes tight around Tyler.

“Fuck, okay, hang on,” Tyler gasps out, trying to pull out so he can suck Segs off, but Segs refuses to let him go, keeping him in place with one thigh. He pulls Tyler’s hand on him, wrapping their fingers together, sliding up and down until Segs comes, hard and loud, squeezing so fucking tight around Tyler he sees stars.

“Jesus,” Tyler huffs, pulling out and flopping on his front. Segs is still palming himself, thighs shaking from the aftermath, and he gives Tyler a sated smile.

“Best sex ever,” he says, reaching between his legs and returning with his fingertips covered in come.

“So, we good?” Segs asks a few minutes later, while Tyler’s still floating on the edges of it.

“Yeah, buddy. We’re good.”

Segs shifts closer and slings his leg over Tyler’s, biting at his jaw.

“Good, ‘cos Mom’s expecting us. She wants me to present you as the Boyfriend Tyler, not Tyler Baby.”

Tyler slugs Segs in the arm -- because seriously, he’s known both of Segs’ parents for years and having to do the awkward boyfriend introduction is not high on his list of priorities -- but lets out a massive sigh and agrees.

“This is gonna be so shitty,” he groans, and Segs laughs.

“Yeah, kind of is. But hey, at least we’ll both be there to deal with it. And then we can go to yours and do it all over again.”

Tyler hasn’t really thought about the greater impact of this evening on the rest of his life, but his parents like Segs and he figures it won’t go too badly.

Segs has stilled next to him, and the smile has dropped off his face, which means Tyler thinking about it has come across as hesitation.

“Or, uhm, we could keep it on the down low for a while, if you want…” Segs fumbles. Tyler rolls his eyes and pulls him closer.

“No, dumbass, we can go to my parents. They’ve always kind of known how stupid I am over you, I think.”

Segs laughs, low and happy, and they fall asleep like that, wrapped up and exhausted in each other, just like Tyler wants them to be.


End file.
